


To Have, to Hold, to Mark, To Own

by maxthebd



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Catlock, M/M, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxthebd/pseuds/maxthebd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something smells delicious in 221B. Sherlock is bound and determined to suss out the source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Max Loses Her Mind

Sherlock dropped the tapestry bag at his feet and flung his coat in the direction of the foyer hooks. Running long fingers through his hair, he ruffled the strands and grimaced when the wool hit the floor.

Well, the coat didn't make it onto a hook. How unfortunate. Mrs. Hudson, bless her Persian soul would hang it later.

Nothing really mattered now.

He was home.

He was back where he was relatively safe, unless he irritated John. Even then, the surly human loved him, so the violence would primarily be directed at the few dishes that survived either experiments, or John's temper.

Especially after the awful case that Mycroft passed to him. A feline-hybrid female, barely twelve, molested by her father, who unfortunately happened to be a high-level member of the United Nations.

Sherlock, along with the Swiss authorities may have looked the other way and delayed calling Emergency Services when the man happened to knock over a bucket of nitric acid.

Ruffling his hair again to avoid a shudder (the screams will haunt him for eternity), Sherlock decided right then that he wanted absolutely nothing more than to lounge on the sofa and snarl at anything that dared invade his territory.

For a few hours.

He'd even say that he craved a couple of hours' domesticity.

He'd even admit it after a few weeks of physical torture. Possibly. 

Using his foot to shove the bag towards the wall and out of the way, Sherlock shook himself to ward off the post-case crash and started upstairs.

Only to halt at the first landing where the scents of skin musk, copper tang, and _heat_ circled and held his senses in a vise.

...A _heat_?

Did John have a visitor?

He sniffed the air again, intrigued when he found the underlying scent of an obvious feline-hybrid in estrus.

John.

But…five years Sherlock knew his cantankerous former soldier/doctor/friend/blogger/John and he always, always thought of the semi-private man as human.

Not a hybrid.

And definitely not a, Sherlock scented the air just to confirm his original deduction.

An _Omega_.

"Oh, John," he purred, inhaling through his mouth to taste that delicious smell. The new knowledge washed away any ideas of his body crashing after a case and added speed to his steps as he plowed up the rest of the stairs and skidded to a stop in front of John's bedroom door.

And reveled in the dance of sheer _heat_ and that tantalizing musk that had his tail twitching. Black-tipped ears flicked at the sounds filtering through the door.

The last barrier between them.

Breathing deep, Sherlock grinned and knocked on the door, hoping that John heard him above the whimpers and occasional sob.

He almost wilted when he heard his named called mid-gasp.

It was all he needed to try the door-knob, thankful that John hadn't locked it.

 _Silly man_. Surely he realized the effect that the Omega's scent would have on any fertile Alpha in the area. Bonded or no, anyone with a working nose would investigate that amazing, wonderful, glorious scent emanating from one of the most- oh _god_.

Skin.

Heat.

Sweat.

Copper and heavy musk of natural lubrication.

 _Tears_.

Ah, the rumored cramps prior to an Omega's heat. Confirmed and fawned over when blond, folded ears peeked out of the sweat-soaked bed linens, displayed when John folded in on himself.

A Scottish Fold hybrid. 

How fitting. 

A chuckle escaped and was promptly greeted with watery blue eyes throwing a glare at him over John's visible shoulder.

"Sherlock," John gasped and panted a sharp, "lock the fucking door."

"John, John, John. " Sherlock smirked and approaching the bed, eyes steady on those pained blues before they disappeared. "Once again, you fascinate me. How long have you been hiding this?" He climbed onto the bed and curled around the smaller hybrid, granting him the warmth the Omega's body needed to fully prepare itself for impregnation. "Oh, John, you're adorable."

"Sod off," John leaned his head back, ears brushing against Sherlock’s chin in time with labored breaths. The move gave Sherlock just enough room to twine his arms around John’s tender abdomen. “Would have been six years if you had flounced around Switzerland like you're wont to do. But fuck you, you came home early, fucking prat." 

"Not sorry," Sherlock drawled and pressed a kiss to the hair between John's ears. He could feel the former soldier's tail make aborted movements against his groin, but ignored it. John wasn't ready for him yet. 

He scented the air once more and figured that John would be ready in a few hours. And then he'd be yowling for Sherlock's attentions.

"Relax, John." He kissed the top of John's head again. "The cramping will only get worse until there's enough lubrication for penetration."

John melted back against him, his breathing growing more ragged with each wave of pain. "Hate this part."

Sherlock nipped a visible ear and licked John's sweat-lined neck. "Sleep, you'll be yowling for my cock soon enough."


	2. What a Cock Tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That absolute-fucking tease..."

Skin.

Copper.

A tease.

An absolute tease.

The scent tantalized Sherlock Holmes' nose just before the rest of the chorus comprised of musk, John, and heat slammed into him like a brick wall, throwing him awake to a moaning, panting John Watson making slow thrusts into the mattress.

The morning light caught the dampness lining and coating John's luscious backside, inviting Sherlock to come, check out the merchandise, have a bite, John Watson was in no state to mind.

Sherlock’s Alpha brain roared awake and took his Omega's offer with gusto. He sank his teeth into a slick rump cheek, a hand grasping its brother and squeezing tightly, warranting a cry out John, whose thrusts increased in speed.

The Scottish Fold was craving friction against his cock. Letting the flushing skin go, Sherlock pressed an open kiss against the small of John's sweat-soaked back and snaked a hand under John to grasp at the base of his Omega's cock. "John," he growled into the blond's tapered ear. "How far are you?"

"Sherlock," John panted, the word cutting off into a sob when Sherlock's hand tightened around John's cock. "I'm there. Fuck, I'm there, please, I can't-"

"I've got you, John," Sherlock paid no attention to the weight placed on one arm and his core as he leaned over John, allowing his body weight to press his now-writhing lover into the soaked mattress. He let his cock slip against John's rump, groaning when hard heat met searing wet, welcoming skin. "Do you want my cock?" Sherlock's fingers danced along the slippery, unresisting ring of muscle that allowed him entrance into John's body. 

Where his cock begged to be, to hide, to fuck his Omega senseless.

"No!" John shouted into a pillow, turning his face so Sherlock could see tear-filled blue eyes right before John reburied his face and started screaming.

In agony or pleasure, Sherlock wasn't sure.

Nor did he care with his Omega smelling like every Christmas the detective could stomach.

If only one could bottle the smell of a heat of this magnitude.

Well, there would be other heats that Sherlock could experiment with.

This one though, this Heat required his utmost...attention. Kneeling behind John, with both hands steadying John's hips, he made to push into the warm velvet when John reared up onto his own knees, knocking Sherlock in the chin with the top of his head and threw himself out of bed and straight onto the floor.

Where he had leverage.

And Sherlock's ire. 

His Omega defied him!

And the little fucking tease...

Sherlock crawled to the bed's edge, wincing when his cock brushed against sweaty thighs and dripped precum onto the ruined sheets.

Thankfully, he had been meaning to replace John's sheets with those of a higher thread-count. John's natural lubrication merely finished the job that a lighter or well-placed acid easily could have accomplished.

John worked himself to his feet, trembling the entire time only to fix a bright glare at the encroaching Alpha.

Sherlock would have stopped everything had John's pupils not been blown wide enough to damned near black-out blue irises. "John, what the hell are you doing?" The Alpha stripped himself of all clothing and rose to his full-height. His Omega was misbehaving.

Badly.

"Whatever happened to Sex," John's question dissolved into a moan that he cut off out of sheer will. "Not being your thing.”

"You."

John slammed himself against the locked bedroom door and fumbled with the knob only to fling himself back around and settle against the wall with a huff. "Fucking hell!"

"Well, I did plan on the fucking when your body was ready." Sherlock playfully groused. "But you insist on moving. Away from your Alpha. I'm almost appalled."

"Fuck you, Sherlock. That'd be your hormones and cock doing the talking."

"Helping my blogger get over a yearly problem." Black eyebrows waggled as Sherlock stood and stalked over to John, trapping the sweating, groaning blond against the door with both hands and bodily-pressing him against the wall.

John writhed, the additional body heat too much on his sensitive skin. "No. No bond. Go away."

"John," Sherlock groaned against the skin of John's neck. "I want you."

"Right now?"

"Please?" Sherlock's voice dropped a vibrating octave that sent black fire shooting straight to John's half-hard cock. 

"Shit." Small, strong hands tangled in Sherlock's hair and allowed John to press a smoldering kiss against Sherlock's open mouth. "You're impossible."

"And you're mine. Will you scream for me?"

John keened a high "yes" when Sherlock buried his face in John's neck, nipping the trembling skin there before dropping to his knees in front of his, HIS Omega.

His John Watson.

And he was rather fond of the sound of that. "My John," he growled and left bites on his journey to John's own precum-soaked cock. "You're so ready," he gave the shaft a few passes and pressed a kiss against the near-purple head. A hand reached back to fondle lightly-furred testicles while two fingers slid into John's welcoming warmth.

John hissed at the contact and yelped when the fingers slid home and crooked against quivering inner-walls. "Dammit, Sherlock-"

"I need to hear you, John. Let me hear it all," he slid in another finger and pressed against the gland he knew would start the waterfall of orgasms. 

"Sher-LOCK," John sobbed out as he climaxed for the first of many times. Sherlock felt the ejaculate land on his shoulder while he bit John's hip to send the man even higher. "Sherlock, please, your knot-"

Music.

Absolute divine music to Sherlock's ears had him up on his feet, his arms up and holding John's arse to the wall and letting his cock slide home, right into John Watson, where it belonged. Sherlock let his head fall to the wall next to John's, who in turn bit his ear and tugged on it lightly. "Sherlock, knot me or I'll do it myself."

"Oh God, yes."


	3. That rug will never quite be the same.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Hudson, we are sorry. No, you cannot watch.

"You shit." The growl from Sherlock's left was enough to rouse the detective from his endorphin-induced slumber.

Peering down at the semen-encrusted rug beneath him, he shifted his weight to the right and all-but-fell off of a limp, but growly, John Watson.

Who was missing his ears.

A bruised hand reached up to touch John's hair, and then looked at the side of his head, where human ears, red with irritation and potentially embarrassment remained. "Your ears."

"Magic. Don't ask." John fidgeted, lifting a hand to his neck - one that was immediately slapped away by his new bondmate, whose slender fingers gently pressed against the furiously-red bite. "And I told you, no bond."

"I'd apologize, but you said I could."

John rolled over and hid his face behind a scratched-up hand. "I know," he drawled, relaxing into the floor. "I can't believe we, you-"

"Use your words, John."

"You knotted me against the fucking wall! The wall! And then the floor."

Sherlock hushed his mate up with his mouth, taking the time to explore John with biting kisses and sweeps of tongue until John bucked up against him and released tiny moans.

Sherlock could get used to that and he felt compelled to let John know it. "This is pleasant."

"It'd be better in bed. If I could move."

Sherlock scooped up his lover and headed to his bedroom, shutting the door behind them with a foot and a growled "Then let's make haste!"

~*~*~

Quicksilver eyes caught sight of the day's calendar, having noticed a small red dot to the left of the number, that Sherlock knew wasn't on the previous days' pages. 

Stretching tall, he worked out sore muscles and scented the air, only to freeze in 221B Baker Street's kitchen.

Skin.

Heat.

Sweat.

Musk. The smells teased his nose lightly, but grew gently in their intensity, each waft making Sherlock's heart race that much faster, and his cock grow that much more interested.

Inhaling deeply, Sherlock felt his cock stiffen when his body realized what the day meant before his brain filled in the blanks.

Six months ago, Sherlock smelled this before. 

A Heat.

His Omega's Heat.

John's Heat.

Shuddering with anticipation, Sherlock began making his way through the flat to the source of those delicious, amazing, smells that sent blood to his hungry, hungry Alpha cock.

The movement in the parlor mirror caught his attention and he found himself distracted by ovoid eyes blown wide, the feline side having shattered the glamour he usually held and letting the black ears and tail reign free. The tail twitched in agitation, because why wasn't he taking care of his Omega?

He watched one ear shift to the noises coming from the upstairs' box room and Sherlock smirked at his reflection.

"JOHN!" He shouted and stalked up the stairs, freezing at the landing to inhale the hurricane of scents now invading the upper-level.

Absolutely fantastic.

And absolutely infuriating with how damned needy he was feeling. Sherlock flung John's bedroom door open and watched his Omega, his mate, work his own needy cock with a lube-soaked hand.

Perfection.

Absolutely beautiful.

With a hand on his trouser's clasp, Sherlock slammed the door shut, locking behind him.

And pounced.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was fun.


End file.
